


Felidae

by harryoholicc



Category: Supernatural, Ten Inch Hero
Genre: AU, Angelo Castiel, Birthcharms, Cat, Cat!Azazel, Cat!Mary, Cat!Sam, Cat!Supernatural, F/M, Felidae Dean, Felidae John, Felidae Sam, M/M, Mary burning in a tree, People being evil, This only has Boaz Priestly in it but not anyone else, cat!castiel, cat!dean, cat!john, hunters being annoying, plague!Azazel, supercatural aye
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harryoholicc/pseuds/harryoholicc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Queen cat remembers the deal of peace she'd made a few years ago.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One, Pilot

**Author's Note:**

> Definition of FELIDAE:
> 
> A cosmopolitan family comprising lithe-bodied carnivorous mammals (as the domestic cat, lion, tiger, lynx, and cheetah) having often strikingly patterned fur, comparatively short limbs with soft pads on the feet, usually sharp curved retractile claws, a broad and somewhat rounded head with short but powerful jaws equipped with teeth suited to grasping, tearing, and shearing through flesh, erect ears, and typically eyes with narrow or elliptical pupils and especially adapted for seeing in dim light.
> 
>  
> 
> \------
> 
>  
> 
> This story is not in any way associated with the Warrior Cat books, (I have never read them, I do not know anything about them), or is in any way assigned with Felidae (the gory movie) or the series of German books by Akif Pirinçci.  
> Nor, The Last Black Cat, from the French author, Eugene Trivizas. 
> 
>  
> 
> Uh, this is my first Supernatural themed story, so yeah, enjoy I suppose. Don't translate this into any other languages, simply because I own it and also, it won't make a heck of a lot of sense.

**I will be adding characters as they appear in the chapters. Note that this is an Alternative Universe fanfiction, and that all the characters are cats. Some events from the show have been 'cat-ified' and a few extra plots I've added in due to my imagination.  Hope you enjoy, thanks for kudos and the reads.**

 

The female cat mewed sweetly, her cream cameo tabby coat shining in the scattered sunlight from the canopies above. A dark grey, tortoiseshell, tom-cat padded out next to her, and a small sound of affection was made by the dark-grey as he sat next to her, at the roots of a tree. He licked his mate’s cheek, as a purr rumbled from deep within her petite body as he eyes fluttered closed.

 

“We better be getting back, Sam and Dean must be getting reckless. Bobby isn’t going to last any longer, Dean is _such_ a playful kitten.” The dark-grey said, paw laid across cream-cameo’s. She opened her round eyes. The colour was a unique shade, the crystal blue speckled with darker tones of azure blue. Dark-grey was still in awe by her eyes from the day he first met her when they were young.

 

“John, stop worrying. Let’s just stay for a few more minutes, please?” Cream-cameo said, her purr slurring with the plea. John smiled, his teeth nibbling at cream-cameo’s soft, pale ears.

 

“Why not, Mary,” John chirped, settling down beside the longhaired cat. Mary stretched out and warmed her fur in the warmth of the bright orb glowing in the  endless blue sky. The two lovers stayed at the base of the tree near the stream.

 

After a few minutes, John got up and pulled gently at Mary’s ear and beckoned her along. She whined a little but then stood up, her toes flexing as she straightened out each of her delicate limbs. A necklace hung around Mary’s neck. It was made from jadestone, and, from what her mother who told her, it was a two-legged with wings, something called an angel.

 

“Come on, leaders don’t stray from the clan this long. We need to hurry back.” John said, pulling the small piece of string around his right foreleg. It had a golden ring looped through the thin rope. His mother had found it hidden under the wooden platform the two-leggeds sat at with a long pole with a wire attached. The cats did not know what this was used for; none of them were stupid enough to stay near the two-legged or their mutated wolves known as ‘hounds’.

 

The felines ran silently through the dense forest, following the scent of the clan by their wet noses. When they arrived, Bobby was the first to approach them. His rough, short, mousy fur was messy. This was an obvious sign that Bobby had been in a few play-fights.

 

“Take the 'lil idjit back!” He said, shaking the young cat off of his hind leg. The small cat saw Mary and ran over.

 

“ _Mama!!_ ” The young, light-brown coloured tabby stumbled forward on his short legs, his stump of a tail waving to his mother.

 

“Dean. I’m glad to see you too,” Mary purred, rubbing her cheek against Dean’s little head. His big, green eyes stared up at her in delight.

 

“Where’s Sam?” John said to the  as Bobby brought a small red and white plaid bundle with his teeth from behind him. The neckerchief fell open and the sleeping kitten rolled out. The dark-brown tabby grumbled and opened his eyes. The kitten’s pupils adjusted to the contrast of the sunlight and the darkness from the insides of his eyelids.

 

“ _Sam!!!_ ” Dean cried excitedly, rushing over to his smaller brother. Sam squeaked, calling for his mother to rescue him from the playful kitten. Mary smiled as she picked up Sam by the scruff of his neck. John picked up the red and white plaid scrap and held it with his teeth. Bobby sharpened his claws in the bark of a nearby tree as the family of cats walked off and and lept up a mossy ledge formed by two branches. It has a third bigger branch, a little higher up that acted as the side so they could lean against it. They were so close together that the branches had formed together in some places; the trees bearing the branches were generations of years old. This is where the the family had always slept. It was passed on through each leader and was slept on by the two cats who’d created the clan; Felidae and his mate Merisha.

 

John laid the plaid down and Mary placed Sam in the fabric. The plaid was his birthcharm. Birthcharms are very important for a cat from the Felidae clan. When a female cat is ready to have birth, she wanders far from the clan. When she has the kitten, she has to bond with it before leaving the infant, so she can smell it out when she goes back to find it after she's picked a birthcharm. Then she has to be quick, which is where the randomness of the birthcharms comes in, because, if you leave the kitten for long, it either gets taken by an animal or it dies. The mother had to pick something that is eye-catching, but sustainable as the kitten has to wear it until the day they fall.

 

If a feline loses their charm, they will be punished or exiled from the Felidae clan until he or she finds it. Birthcharms were vital for the clan’s communication, for example, if a Felidae comes across a cat, with similar looks to another clan-member, they could be mistaken. Also, if the cat who has lost their birthcharm is seen by a member of the Felidae clan, they could be targeted and killed upon sight as they are seen as an outsider, as outsiders are from clans like the Plague clan and the Angelos Clan. These clans were strongly against each other. So far, no other clans Felidae know have begun to use birthcharms too.

 

Mary purred softly as she licked her eldest son; Dean. He was only a few lunations old. The ‘lunations’ were calculated on stance of the moon, the full moon being the start and the end of each lunation. Sam was no more than one and a half lunations, in fact, today marked the day of the half lunation. His eyes were still the colour blue, as all kittens that age had blue eyes. It was natural.

 

“I think our Sam will have your beautiful eyes, my purrcious.” John said, gazing lovingly at Mary and their son. She looked up and shook her pretty head.

 

“No, I think he’ll have yours. Dean has a mix of both, and just look how bright his are.” She said, her tongue caressing the kittens ear gently. John took each corners of the neckerchief and tied it up and around Sam. The little kitten was a tabby who was darker than his older brother, with a white muzzle and a throat that ran down onto his chest. Sam had a partial white sock, on his left front paw. On his hind legs, at the back, from the ankle to his paw was a black strip. He had inherited that from his grandmother, Diana. Dean’s markings were similar, but his face markings were slanted compared to the perfect, symmetrical white markings Sam had on either side of his philtrum. Dean didn’t have the partial sock, but he had a white toe, his third toe of his left foot.

 

Dean mewed gratefully and he shuffled over to Mary’s abdomen. “Hungry!”

 

Dean started kneading Mary's stomach with his tiny paws, squeaking with affection. Mary rolled over and let Dean drink her warm milk.

 

“Sam hungry too?” Dean asked, looking up at his mother whilst licking the remains of the milk from his lips. Mary nodded and Sam crawled slowly over, for he could not walk yet. Dean pushed Sam out of the way several times, but John stood up and picked Dean up in his mouth. Sam meowed happily in thanks, and made his way over to his mother for a drink.

 

“Dean, _calm down!_ ” John said as he put the kitten down in his paws. Dean squirmed.

 

“ _No!_ Sam drink all _my_ milk!” Dean yowled pitifully, his blunt claws lashing out in a hurry.

 

“John, leave him be, go and hunt food for yourself.” Mary said, cleaning her shoulder-blade. John rolled his dark hazel coloured eyes.

 

“Besides, the first hunting group will be leaving soon.” Mary added.

 

“I am rather hungry. Look after the kids, I will be back as soon as possible.” John said and rubbed his cheek against Mary before he turned and walked away.

 

“Sam, come here.” Mary said softly, stretching her paw over to the fabric. She hooked it with one of her claws and brought it over. Mary used the pads of her toes to fold it into a more manageable size, and used her sharp fangs to fasten it around Sam’s waist. It hung around like a skirt of some sort. Mary brushed Sam’s coat with her tongue. Little tufts of the brown coloured fur were already starting to stick up. His coat was going to be like his mothers; long, silky and fluffy. Dean took after his father, John, who had a short spikey coat.

 

“I want you to grow up big and strong. One day, you’ll be a leader. You need to be brave and cunning. I hope you will know your enemy when you see them.” Mary spoke in hushed tones. She mumbled sweet things into his ear. Dean looked up from his meal and swaggered over, his belly full of milk. His eyes were drooping and he collapsed next to Sam in Mary’s paws and closed his eyes.

 

By the time John got back, both the kittens were sleeping softly. John had two young blackbirds in his mouth. He placed on next to his mate and began picking off the birds brown feathers. John spat them out and soon began munching at the bird’s muscles, the few that it had.

 

Food wasn’t scarce in the Felidae, it was just that they had two hunting times a day, morning and afternoon. This meant that the cats didn't need to have big meals, so a small bird was relished. Other clans weren’t so lucky though, like the Plagues who lived in the dark undergrowth and were skinny, dark furred cats. Most had amber coloured eyes, some even nearly red. Their eyes were adjusted to the dark surroundings they lived in, so they could enlarge their pupils to make their full eyes black if need be, to see better. They ate things like mice, but they were scarce and the cats could not wander out of their territory to hunt. The Angelos however, spent most of their time in the trees, and their eyes were a pretty shade of blue. They could make their pupils very small, so if a lone cat wandered into their territory without them knowing, the Angelos could look directly down at them. From below, their eyes blended in with the leaves and the skies above. The Angelos hunted tree animals, like squirrels and birds. Not much at all was known about the Angelos. Some cats thought the clan was mythical. The lone cats (they had either been exiled by their clan or just born clanless), were the ones who had food low, along with the Plagues.

 

Mary finished her bird, and the wings and the head was all that was left, other than the inedible feathers. John climbed up the branches of the tree further, and laid down, closing his tired eyes. He was content, with his stomach full and he was happy. The end of his thin tail flicked as he fell asleep.

 

The she-cat tied Sam up in his neckerchief and made sure that Dean’s birthcharm was still around his neck. Dean had named it the ‘Samulet’, because he had only realised he was wearing it when Sam had flicked it when he was born, about a lunation ago. That was the first time Dean met Sam.

 

“Goodnight, my purrcious'. Sleep well. I love you.” Mary mewed and kissed each of her silent kittens before she crept underneath the branch Sam and Dean were on. She curled up and laid her paws across each other, settling her head on them.

 

She began to fall asleep.

 

\----------

 

Mary woke up to the sound of her kitten mewing desperately. Her blue orbs opened wide, her pupils wide.

 

“John?” She said, looking up through a crack in the branches to where John slept.

 

No reply, he must be asleep, Mary thought.

 

She yawned and stretched. Mary climbed out from under the tree and looked at the figure of a sleek cat.

 

“John?” She paused to wipe the sleep from her eyes with the back of her paw.

 

“Is he hungry?” She mumbled sleepily, as she looked up.

 

No reply again. Mary shrugged. “Okay.”

 

The stars were shining bright in the dark sky. She gazed blissfully at them.The silhouettes of the trees stood out from the bright glow of the half moon. Mary spotted a sleeping cat in the place where John slept.

 

If that cat where John should be sleeping was John, then who was the figure next to the kittens was--

 

“ _Sammy, Sammy, Sammy..._ ” She muttered, suddenly remembering a deal she had made years, years ago.

 

“ _Sammy!"_ She screamed as she ran up the branches and was met by a pair of yellow eyes, illuminating in the light. She hissed, her back prickling with anger as her hair stood on end at her hackles. The figure had Sam, wrapped in his plaid neckerchief, in its jaws, and when Mary saw this, she lept into the air. Sam was crying.

 

If Sam could speak, he'd be saying, help me, help me, _help me_.

 

The black cat dropped Sam and its claws struck out and sliced a deep mark in Mary’s abdomen. She hissed and called John, howling in pain. She raised her tail menacingly and lept again, dodging the paw thrown at her. Her teeth sunk deep into the cat’s ear, so deep that her fangs went straight through the soft ear leather. She jerked her head quickly so that she ripped the cats ear. Blood gushed from the large rip. The smell of blood stirred John from his slumber, but did not wake him.

 

He was deep in sleep.

 

Sam was still crying when the dark figure lashed out and cut a deep gash across Mary's throat. Mary gargled when she called John yet again, pleading. Blood was filling her mouth, gushing out of her mouth. The dark figure suddenly attacked Mary, who was laying on the floor spitting blood out of her mouth. It was dripping out of her nostrils. The yellow-eyed feline took Mary’s neck in its mouth, shaking its head violently trying to break her neck. Red liquid was being sprayed every time the black cat turned its head. Mary was short of breathe and she collapsed, as the dark figure walked over to Sam. He was still crying, mewing so terribly loud now. His eyes were shut firmly and the dark figure growled. Mary screeched, her yowl ringing out in the quiet darkness, the blood oozing out of her mouth.

 

John awoke with a start and immediately looked down. A dark shadow looked up and leapt away in the shadows, the half moon reflecting in the deep pools of black, like a mirror, on the figures face.

 

“Mary?” He said, jumping down from the tree. He approached the two kittens, Sam howling his head off and Dean had started to bawl too, wishing Sam would shut up and let him sleep. Mary was nowhere to be seen. There were no signs of blood, and John had no idea what had been going on.

 

“Oh, it’s you,” John said, looking at Sam. “Okay…”

 

A drop of blood splashed on the neckerchief, next to Sam’s head. John touched it cautiously with his paw. More drops began to fall on his fur, so he looked up to see where they were coming from.

 

In the trees was Mary. Her dead body hung in the branches, her fur was drenched in blood and her face was lifeless. Her eyes were dull and grey, not bright and blue. Her birthcharm hung off her neck, the green of the jade angel pendant swinging, catching the light of the bright half moon.

 

“ _Mary!_ ” John said, backing away from what he had seen. Suddenly, Mary burst into flames. John didn’t know what to do. Sam was in hysterics and tossing in his neckerchief. He picked up Sam in the plaid neckerchief and turned around. Dean was standing there. He had just woken up, as he was like his father, a deep sleeper. He was unsure of what was happening.

 

“Papa?” Dean said, puzzled. John placed Sam into Dean’s mouth.

 

“Take your brother outside as _fast_ as you can, _don’t_ look back!” John said, and Dean was confused. “Now, Dean, _go!_ ”

 

Dean turned on his feet and ran. He ran as fast as his stubby kitten legs would take him. He hopped down the branch quickly from the blazing heat of the fire. John turned around.

 

“Mary?” He said, looking up at the dead body. Flames exploded in all directions and engulfed the tree with flames. “ _No!!_ ”

 

John shielded his eyes from the heat of fire.

 

Dean was still running as fast as he could, to a nearby tree.

 

“It’s okay Sam.” Dean mumbled, turning around. The whole tree was on fire, the old tree that had been around for so many hundreds of years. Dean looked at it with wide eyes. He was swept off his feet, carrying Sam in his mouth. John had come and picked him up off the floor.

 

They ran further, and Sam had stopped crying. Dean was silent, for he could not speak with his younger brother in his mouth. Even if he could talk, he wouldn't know what to say.

 

John eventually sat down and breathed deeply as he caught his breath back. He looked up, nuzzling Sam as he and Dean watched the old tree burning. A mixture of pain, sadness and anger swirled in his eyes.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A great disaster has happened and Mary is gone.

**Sorry for the wait. This chapter is fairly long; sorry about that too. Hope you enjoy it, ya idjits.**

 

“Mary?” John called as he quickly turned a burnt branch over with his paw. He winced as he looked down and saw that his paw was stained with the scarlet blood that had dripped out of Mary’s body in the tree. The tomcat leapt over a patch of scorched ground, cautious of his paws.

 

“Mary!” He repeated, but with no avail, there was no reply. He knew deep down, Mary was most certainly dead. But, however, John kept his hopes as high as his tail was held.

 

He ran through the debris, yowling loudly and waiting for any kind of movement. His paws hit the ground with a soft thump, making a rhythm a little bit like a horse galloping.

 

Suddenly, John was flung forward. He cried out in pain as his wrist twisted violently. His birthcharm, the golden ring strung around his right front leg, was caught on a branch. He hissed, untangling himself from the twig that had been sticking out. John’s paw was throbbing, his ears pinned back as he laid his weight over his leg, attempting to walk. He avoided all use of his leg, so he limped.

 

His large, copper-hazel eyes scrutinized the area. The quickly fixed on something glinting in the light. John focused on the object and slowly padded over on three legs. He cocked his head in wonder and his next breath was replaced by a sharp gasp.

 

The twinkling item was no other than the jade angel pendant.

 

_Mary’s birthcharm._

 

John quietly crept over to the scene. The string of necklace had been charred, for it was dark and black. Fragments of the necklace flaked off when John sadly nudged it with his broad nose. He looked around, seeing something he never, ever, wanted to see in his entire nine lives.

 

Mary was resting on a small pile of burnt wood. Her beautiful, light cream coloured coat was no more. It had been scorched badly, the hair completely seared off in most places. Her throat was stained with the blood seeping through her pale throat. Mary's flesh had been burnt so badly that some of her bones were visible and charred. She was shrivelled up and black. 

 

John didn’t want to look at his purrcious’ cold, dead body. It was a horrible thing to look at. Mary was no longer the delightful Queen-cat that everyone had wanted to give their purrciousness to. Her body was scarred with dark marks and her blood...

 

Well, it was...

 

_...It was everywhere._

 

“Mary…” John whispered, as he sat down next to her body. His eyes started to water, so he lifted his left paw and wiped it away. John dipped his head and started to lick Mary’s fur. He hoped it would make her cleaner, but all he got out of doing so was a sour taste in his mouth. He coughed and his eyes started to water yet again. This time though, he let his cheeks get wet. They ran down the side of his nose and seeped into the folds of fur at the edges of his mouth.

 

John stayed next to Mary’s side until two hunter Felidae found him.

 

“John? We’ve been looking for you every…” A pale ginger bicolour cat trailed off, her mouth hanging open. She shook her head. “....Where.”

 

John stared down at Mary. He was hurt. He didn’t want to turn around and face his old friend, a bright minded cat named Ellen.

 

“John, _c’mon_. You gotta explain to the clan what happened.” A brown sandy cat with long, but thin, fur. “Us included.”

 

Ellen nodded her head in approval and John sighed. He turned around, his face scrunched up a little bit.

 

“We’ll carry Queenie back, okay?” The sandy cat said and nodded to the dead body, not really feeling what John was feeling at that exact moment. John muttered a disapproving word. Mary was no Queen; not anymore. She had been and left.

 

Fallen, even. Like an sin of some sort. Like the devil. However, cats do not have much of a religion. They just have plain facts and their own theories of life.

 

“Ash, leave him be.” Ellen pushed her way in and batted Ash around his head with a flick of her fluffy paw. Ash was a cat with little care for others sorrow. He growled low in his throat.

 

“Please, keep Sam and Dean occupied and send Bobby and Rufus over. They’ll understand.” John said after a few minutes of silence. Ellen and Ash agreed and walked off, their tails swinging low behind them, swaying with the rhythm. When they were out of sight and smell, John turned to Mary.

 

“Oh, my _purrsious!_ My _sweet!_ My _love!_ What will become of me?” John said, crouching down beside Mary. Her face was raw and scalded, almost unrecognisable, and her body was limp when John patted her with his paddy paws.

 

“I _can’t_ live without you, what will Felidae do?!” The grey cat cried out. He suddenly stood up.

 

“We need a new leader, one whom I can train personally.” John thought. “Yes, Sam or Dean will be great, just great.”

 

John started pacing. He kept glancing at his deceased mate. He kept rambling on to himself. “Dean would be good. He’s strong, a-and brave, yes!”

 

He stopped, and paused to look at Mary’s dead body. He sighed sadly and carried on, his voice starting to crack with each word.

 

“Dean will do just fine. But Sam, he’s got a kinder heart. He will grow up elegant and find a mate and we'll have grandchildren. Mary, what do you think?” John turned to Mary. He smiled softly but tears started falling down. Mary stayed silent, soft tufts of hair from the less-burnt areas wavering in the breeze.

 

He curled up around the body. The strong smell of burnt foliage and flesh didn’t bother him at all. He was trying to be a warrior, like he’s always been. The leader of Felidae was expected to stand strong, even through the worst of times. They weren’t supposed to mourn over others, as they were the ones the other cats looked up to. John felt hopeless; Mary had been his everything. She’d been the soft rays of light that made your eyes flicker awake and enjoy the day. She’d been the calm night, her eyes like the moon that slowly lulled you to sleep. Speaking of her eyes, oh, _her eyes_. They were the most alluring shade of blue. John felt himself getting lost in them countless times.

 

But now, all that seemed to be over. Mary was dead.

 

Dead.

 

Who’d purr in John’s ear and be the one to come home to after battle? Who’d be the one to raise their kittens? Who’d lick the mental wounds made in the leadership? Not Mary, not anyone, John thought.

 

John hadn’t realised that he’d fallen asleep, until Bobby shook him awake. Rufus was standing behind him, his dark coat catching the soft light of the sky.

 

“Hey, John. Wake up.” Bobby softly murmured.

 

“No… I don’t…” John said as he squinted upwards. “I don’t want to wake up.”

 

“John, come on! You gotta pick ‘yerself together!” Bobby said, his kind eyes looking into John’s own.

 

“You’re…” John said, his mind realising the situation. “You’re right.”

 

Bobby smiled as John stood up, his body shaking and his bad paw twitching. He steadied himself and looked at Mary.

 

“Pick her up and follow me. Be careful.” John spoke. He didn’t feel the pain of losing Mary anymore. He just wanted revenge with whoever did this to his purrcious. After the breakdown at her side, John had lost his emotions. If that was even possible. It was just like a tap had been turned on, a rush, and then drained out. Nothing was left. 

 

Bobby and Rufus nodded and carefully dragged the body out of the remains of the tree. John didn’t flinch when Rufus took half of her and laid it across his back. Mary lay limp and her legs drooped over both of the old cats bodies.

 

“The rest of the clan are down by the riverside. Impala rounded everyone up when she saw the fire and led them to the river. They slept there for the rest of the night.” Rufus said, stepping over a rock. John didn’t say anything, walking behind them to make sure Mary was safe. Impala was a good cat. She was a servant to the leaders, a sleek, hard looking faced cat. Her fur was a smokey colour, with various shades rippling down her body. Her birthcharm was a silver coloured word. A name, maybe. No one knew, as no cat could read the complicated colloquy.

 

John followed them down to the river. The whole clan was there, all faces turned to the three, well, four, cats walking down the bank. Some mothers shielded their younger children’s eyes.

 

Bringing dead bodies back wasn’t rare, but it wasn’t an everyday thing for the clan. Cats were often bringing back their fellow clan-members, and kittens were often in the area. It wasn’t anything scary, but cats don’t get burned to sheer death in battles…

 

John stood on a rock, to make himself noticeable.

 

“Felidae.” He addressed the cats, looking around. “Last night, a terrible thing happened. I woke up to a scream, and went down to check on Sam and Dean. I saw nothing, I did not know where the scream came from, and then I--”

 

“ _Papa!!_ ” Dean stumbled up to his father as the crowd of cats stared. Dean purred and rubbed himself on his father’s leg. John cursed as Dean head-butted the exact place where the old cat had caught it. He lifted it up out of reach and Dean started playing around, mewing excitedly.

 

“Dean. Please.” John growled through gritted teeth. He looked down with a straight face.

 

“Papa, where’s Ma? I’m hungry!” Dean whined. “Where’s Ma?”

 

John sucked on his teeth. He was so close to whacking Dean around the face right now. But he didn’t. He was the leader, and leaders didn’t do that. They didn’t punish little kittens…. Little, annoying, loud kittens.

 

“Felidae! Everyone meet at the tree by the river at sunset, on the night after the full moon. That is when my beautiful mate shall be buried.” John said, kicking Dean away.

 

The cats all yowled in consensus.

 

Dean fell off the rock and hit his head on a smaller rock. John didn’t realise at all he’d been knocked out, but he was happy Dean was finally silent.

 

“For now, the great tree has been burned to a pile of ash and soot on the floor. We must find a new tree, a new territory. There is an old tree across the stream, but it is nearer the Angelos.”

 

The whole clan stayed silent and listened intently.

 

“I assume we will be more at risk if we live near the Angelos. However, they are a very clever clan, they know more about you than you know about yourself.” John said, casting his gaze around the crowd.

 

“After Mary has been laid to rest, we shall consider moving. It will be easier that way.” The leader spoke. He was trying his hardest not to collapse with the sudden feelings he'd been protecting ever since he found Mary, right in front of everyone. He had to be tough.

 

John turned his head to a young ticked tabby. “Pamela.”

 

The dark tabby looked up. She nodded in reply.

 

“I would like you to come with me. Bring Sam and Dean, please.” John mewed.

 

Pamela nodded again. She walked forward and picked up the red bundle of plaid, placing it before the rock. Pamela put Dean in the plaid, and then held it in her teeth. Dean was still unconscious, and Sam had been woken up by the small body that had been dumped on him rudely. He squeaked and pawed Dean in the face with blunt claws.

 

“The rest of Felidae may return to the tree. Be careful. I will be back in next to no time. Have a good day.” John spoke as he watched the first few cats leave and then the rest shortly followed. Bobby was last to leave, and as he was trudging off, he looked up and gave a glance of regret, as if to say, “I’m sorry.”.

 

“Come, Pamela, I’ve hurt my leg. I think I may have twisted it badly.” John uttered. Pamela didn’t say anything but she nodded for the third time, and followed John as he hopped of the rock and sat beside the tree. He lay down in the soft river banks.

 

“Look, this one here.” John said as he straightened out his right leg. Pamela peered at his paw before starting to prod it in various places.

 

“Ouch!” John yelled when Pamela pressed the pads of her toes in his wrist. She looked up in shock, scared to have hurt the leader. She continued to check him over, before diagnosis.

 

“Sir,--”

 

“I am not ‘Sir’. Please, just call me John. You’re my close friend, not a student of a hunting class and I am not the teacher.”

 

“Oh, okay, J-Jo--” Pamela stuttered, she was not used to calling people by their actual names, not even her friends. “J-John.”

 

John nodded.

 

“You’ve fractured your first, second and fourth metacarpal bones. I recommend you don’t walk on it for a few days, and after that it may hurt a little. Cats always think that resting the limbs or bones are helping it, when in fact it’s not, it is just making it harder to heal. It’s best to use it, so they all go at the same pace..” Pamela said, mewing sweetly and doing her best to be kind. It was her nature, but mysterious like her birthcharm, a golden bangle with a glass orb charm attached.

 

“What does that mean?” John asked as he looked down at his leg.

 

“Oh, _you know!_ If you don’t use that leg of yours, it’s going to lack behind because the others will be ahead of it athletically.” Pamela told him.

 

John nodded but he still didn’t understand much. To be honest, he didn’t actually care. He knew what he had to do.

 

He had to be brave, and raise his kin as wise leaders. It was going to be hard, but John knew it was going to be for the best.

 

Pamela left him with Sam and Dean. John lay for a few minutes before getting up. He elongated his slender body as he stretched, his tail sticking up in the air. John bent down and picked up the plaid bundle in his fangs. He slowly stumbled through the forest, the birds above mockingly squawking. John glared at them.

 

John approached the clan and sat down at the edge of the crowd. All he'd have to do was wait for Mary to be buried and then all of this would be over. He'd be baled to begin training Sam and Dean. John would also be able to pick the next leader and try to forget Mary. Maybe he'd even find a new mate, and have a kitten. John fell asleep thinking of this, as the clan around him busied around with their daily duties.

 

The cycle of the moon quickly became a waxing crescent, and then soon it was a waxing gibbous. Then it was the night of the full moon.

 

All of the cats quietly marched down to the riverside where Mary was to be buried. A group of cats had dug a deep hole, two body-lengths down in the soft, sandy earth. John was standing next to Mary's body, next to the hole. He stepped up onto a thick root that was sticking out. Sam was now old enough to walk on his own, plus he was a fast learner and the small kitten was able to mumble a few words now and then. The two brothers sat next to their father, on the root of the tree. The clan sat in the shadow of the canopies above.

 

"We are all gathered here today to mourn the loss of a beloved Queen cat. Her name was Mary. I remember we met just here a few years back, and this is where I took her to ask if she wanted to be my mate." John addressed the clan, looking around. He saw so many different faces. He felt sad. None of them were Mary.

 

"The night of Mary's death was horrible. I found her in the tree above me, and then she burst into flames." He looked down at Sam and Dean.

 

"I had to grab the Dean and Sam in my mouth. They nearly burnt to death, but _I_ saved them." John added.

 

Dean frowned. His dad didn't carry Sam outside, Dean did. Sam didn't know that, so he simply smiled.

 

"Thank you, Dad." Sam said, mewing gratefully.

 

"But Papa-!" Dean started, but ending with a glare from John

 

"Hush, Dean." John said, and then looked back to the crowd.

 

"I ran away from the tree, but alas, Mary was already gone. She was up in flames. I do not know how this happened. I do not know who did it. But I will catch them and will personally prosecute them." John warned.

 

He stepped down off the root and over to Mary. The group of cats who'd dug the hole were standing next to the pile of soil. John rubbed his face against Mary's decomposing body gently. He did not mind the smell of death, reeking from inside the dead body.

 

The cats of Felidae all started to sing. They sung a song of loss. The noise came from deep within their throats, but they didn't open their mouth. The song came through their nose instead, which dampened the sound of the notes to make a low, smooth humming sound. It was sung in sad, mourningful, lonesome strings of mewing. Felidae all sung in tune, all at the same time. The song could be heard throughout the vast woods like a delicate breeze. The birds were silent and the animals around didn't move a muscle. They knew that the cats were gathering together their sadness, pushing it all out through the notes that they sung. The tune of the loss-song varied, because if there was a single cat singing it would just sound pathetic and the noise would be minuscule. When all Felidae sung at once, the song overpowered the loud forest and left the creatures hanging on their own noise.

 

John slowly pushed Mary's body into the hole. It fell in with a light thump. John beckoned Sam and Dean over to sit by him. Sam sat next to John, quietly. The clan were still singing. The loss-song was a very stretched out song. It lasted a long time, which meant that they would have gotten sore throats if they were singing with their own voices and not their nose-voices.

 

John closed his eyes as the small group of hole-diggers slowly pawed the dirt over Mary. Sam looked up at his father and copied him, also closing his eyes. This is what the family of the dead would do. They were supposed to close their eyes while the song slowly went on whilst the family stayed silent. This was the time for the mourners to say their last things mentally to their loved one.

 

However, Dean was ruining it for them. As John and Sam both had closed eyes, Dean was watching the cats sing and started to hum along with them. He flicked his tail in time to the notes that were drifting through the air. John opened one eye and gave Dean a look of anger. Dean quickly shut his eyes and shut up, but the tune kept playing in his head. He made his own version, all alone in the broad limits of his imagination.

 

Dean's eyes were still closed when John made a small hole in the dirt covering Mary. John placed the jade angel necklace in the hole and covered it over with his paw. The loss-song had finished. Sam plucked a small yellow flower and dropped it on the grave.

 

"Dean," John said. Dean opened his large, innocent-looking eyes. They shone brightly in the bright sunset. Dean looked at John, who gave a pleading look.

 

" _Dean._ " John repeated, more forcefully than before and nodded his head to a small patch of flowers. They were a pretty pink colour, with little specks of darker violet dotting the pale petals. Dean frowned at the flowers. He didn't think Ma would like flowers on her burial-bed.

 

Dean plodded over to the bed of petals. He grumbled as he picked the most noticeable one, clamping his small teeth softly in the stem and pulling it out. The kitten walked back towards the mound of dirt. A small, leaf covered pine branch stuck out of the earth and caught the curious beings eye. Dean dropped the flower and hurried over to the branch, confused eyes of Felidae watching him stumble.

 

"Dean, what are you-" John addressed the clan more than Dean, in order to come across as a responsible leader. Dean picked up the small twig in his mouth, carrying it proudly over to Mary's grave. He tilted his head and stuck the pine in the soft earth.

 

Dean stood back on his stout legs and admired his work. He smiled widely and looked back at John.

 

"Look Papa!" He exclaimed with a purr. John looked a little angry. Dean's small teeth were visible as he flashed them around, feeling very proud indeed.

 

"This is not funny, Dean." John growled low in his throat. Dean's large grin slowly faded. His eyes saddened and he crawled back to his place next to Sam.

 

The leader himself sat in front of the grave. He started the speech of goodbye.

 

"Morbi semper ad omnes , etiam si non videat, nescimus ades." John mewed loudly. "Si vestri ' nunc procul."

 

John turned to the clan. "Tu autem in nobis cogitationes . Signatum est in nobis es singulari , sicut incensum in scarring eam cutis."

 

"Aliquid est in horizonte pulchra sis quin omni secundus eius et scitur." He paused before facing the clan. "Semper."

 

"Semper." Felidae clan replied, the word loud in the silence of the forest.

 

The speech of goodbye had been used for generations, spoken in Latin and created for Merisha from her burial long, long ago. She was buried and Felidae planted a sapling to remember her by. That sapling had grew into the majestic old tree that had now been burnt to a crumbling mess.

 

The clan sat and all closed their eyes for a brief moment. A few minutes later, the birds started to sing softly and soon they were chirping loudly, back to their usual volume of tweeting and twittering.

 

Then, Felidae started to slowly file away, leaving John and his sons alone. John slowly turned to Dean.

 

"Would you care to explain what this is?!" John asked, an angry tone dancing around the words. The tom cat batted the tiny branch that Dean has so carefully placed.

 

Dean started to talk. "Ma would have liked it."

 

John flared his nostrils as he exhaled a deep sigh. "No, she wouldn't."

 

Sam had started to lick his paw and wash his face. When he heard the two bickering, he slowly put his paw back on the floor and watched patiently.

 

"But Ma hates flowers. She said they tickled her nose and made her sneeze and--"

 

"--Dean!" John shouted. Dean clamped his tiny jaws together. "This is not time to fool around."

 

Sam sadly looked at his family. He looked at the pine branch knocked over and he looked at the two cats. He saw the hurt of loss in John’s eyes and he saw the look of innocence in Dean's round eyes. Sam studied Dean's posture. His shoulders were slumped and Dean's head was hanging low. His soft ears suddenly pricked up at their father's shouts.

 

"Don't you care that your mother's _dead?_ " John coldly spat at Dean. He paused to let the fact sink in before turning to Sam. John roughly picked up Sam in his mouth by his scruff. Sam squeaked at the sudden movement but stayed obedient.

 

The dark tortoiseshell tom walked away. Dean felt like crying. He collapsed in an emotional heap on his stomach. Small paws covered his eyes as he started to shake. His bony shoulders shivered as the tears began to well up in his eyes. They ran down his furry cheeks, splashing on the ground.

 

"I _do_ care." Dean mumbled and cast his gaze on the twig that John had carelessly thrown away. He padded over, his balance lost at first but he gained it back quickly.

 

The little feline took the twig in his jaw and stabbed it into the ground where it had been before with a swift turn of his neck. He stepped back and looked at his work. Dean grinned half-heartedly.

 

A sharp rustle followed by a flutter of feathers and a quiet hiss frightened Dean. He looked up; it had come from the tree above him. A small, fluffy feather floated down. It was pure white and it stood out in the dark surroundings. Dean sniffed it cautiously before looking up again. His round eyes, shiny and green, darted around as he tried to find where it'd come from.

 

'Curiosity killed the cat', was something Mary had always told him.

 

But she wasn't here anymore.

 

Dean frowned and he turned, taking one last look at the grave and the tree. He glanced at the feather for a second, pondering whether or not he should play or go.

 

He then sighed and started to trot off, the thought of an angry father seeping into his mind. He'd lacked behind, and Dean struggled to gain speed with his short kitten legs.

 

 


End file.
